There is a snowflake stamp on my hand

Written October 23, 2006

It was a rainy Saturday night and maybe that helped inspire the inspiration brought on by the Dresden Dolls. Maybe it didn't, but the eye pencil on my cheek a la Clockwork Orange didn't have a chance to smear.

Uncle Ho and I stopped into the Halo bar for an expensive drink and a smoke. Mine was a Long Island iced tea, his was a Bud. The Cardinals game was on, but we were none-the-wiser, the Dresden Dolls weren't even a mile away, like-minded individuals were filling up the Pageant like mold fills up a year-old container of fudge brownies. I had never been so excited to be moldy. We survived the "security check" (laughter, applause) thank you, yes, we survived it pretty good, although I think the lady shining the flashlight into my purse didn't appreciate the brickabrack that was obviously planted to hide my coke stash.

We walked in and our ears immediately caught a morbid, frenzied harmonica being played into the microphone. A white man with a fro, named Sxip, was blowing the audience's assholes away. He finished the harmonica, then put coins into a glass bowl and kept them spinning in a cacophonous rhythm which accompanied his singing and breathing, rhythmic and in tune with the pitch pedal at his feet. I looked over at Uncle Ho and grinned. He didn't grin back because his eyes were stuck to the stage; almost everyone's were. Not to speak of the average-looking youth chattering at the bar; they will never go away. Sxip introduced the opening band, The Red Paintings.

People flooded the stage; there were grunts, a bass player dressed as a geisha, another geisha with a violin, two naked girls covered in grayish paint, two more girls setting up blank canvases at the back of the stage, and yet two MORE girls with paint cans towards the front. The singer walked out wearing a long green fuzzy coat, much like the one found on their web page. The band began to play, and the two girls in the back began to paint! Long, black strokes, then red, brush brush brush, quick and passionate, their torsos moving with the music. The two painted naked ladies stood on either side of the stage, one wearing a large fan-type headdress, perched in a statue-esque posture as two other girls painted on their bodies. As the violin geisha played, I could see that the instrument was luminescent and electric, adding gorgeous tones to the lead guitar and bass, a spooky afterthought, a traditional-sounding voice in the midst of the rocking. The four girls were painting, the painted statues were dancing, the geishas were swaying in their dresses, the drummer's kabuki mask held tight, the lead singer was…on something. Yes, he was intoxicated; during the set he knocked over a microphone stand, got chords tangled up in his (impractical) lime green coat, and then came the last song. "The Revolution is Never Coming." I looked at Uncle Ho and laughed, nodded. Great music, very interesting, very different, although the singer sounded like he was doing a good Brian Molko impression (lead singer of Placebo). The song was winding up, or winding down, winding louder and faster and the singer was spinning, oh god he's going to hit something or someone, a painted statue almost got a headstock in the mouth, this is bad…he fell of the stage. Yep. Five or six-foot drop? The bass geisha quickly disrobed the instrument and gown and bent down to check on him, the band stopped, the drummer stood up, the girls stopped painting, security guards have arrived on the stage. The set was over, whether it was supposed to be or not.

I was thrilled. Of course the singer was alright! People fall off stages all the time; look at that politician that fell off the stage. Or was it an actor? Like there's a difference. Sxip came back out and warned the audience that the show was NOT over; he was going to play another song and we were to welcome a St. Louis-based performing group called Gravity Plays Favorites. They were ****ing amazing, and completely hot.

After the left the audience good and wet, the Dresden Dolls took the stage. Poor Amanda was losing her voice, but she kept on and we were none the wiser. These guys are amazing because they act like people, not rock stars. Some of the girls from the Paintings were to the right of the stage, creating another canvas in rhythm with the music. A visual representation of art inspiring other art. The Dolls played music from both albums, including my favorites.

Uncle Ho put it best: "I came to the show with a crush on Amanda and left with a crush on the drummer." Brian Viglione knows what it means to perform. He was as much a part of the show as everything else. He gestured, he flailed, he stood, and at one point he played both acoustic guitar and tophat. His devilock was an extension of his brain. There was so much energy and charisma. The Dolls did "Mein Herr" which was hilarious, they premiered a new song called "Lonesome Organist Rapes Page Turner" and did a kickass cover of "War Pigs." They left after "Girl Anachronism" but came back because the audience wouldn't stop whooping hollering clapping stomping screaming MORE! They came out, played "Mad World" from Donnie Darko (which I still haven't seen) with the recovered lead singer of Red Paintings, apparantely named Trashed McSweeney.? That was good. They ended with "Half-Jack" and left, for good.

Uncle Ho and I left warm-hearted and inspired. An amazing show. I would see any one of those acts again. Best $17.50 I ever spent.

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